Perfectly Normal
by florensa
Summary: Petunia thought that all she wanted was to be perfectly normal. But what is normal really? One-shot, Petunia reflects on her life, and the part that Harry Potter played in it. Canon compliant, HP/GW mentioned.


**Disclaimer: I _so_ do not own harry potter. **

**A/N - This was originally written for a compitition, it had to be under 1,000 words, written between DH and the Epilogue. reviews appreciated! ( by appreciated, i mean that when i get reviews i dance around the room in joy that someone read my story)**

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><p>Petunia Dursley was dusting. She liked to do this early in the morning, as Vernon wasn't yet up. As she worked her way down the cluttered mantle-piece, she came to an old photo of Dudley on his tenth birthday. As she peered fondly at her only son, she saw in the corner of the photo a small boy with untidy hair, and bright-green eyes. Lily's eyes. Petunia took the photograph in her bony fingers, peering closely at the small boy she had known. How different he was, from the young man whom she had last seen at his wedding….<p>

After Vernon had recovered sufficiently from the shock of an owl bearing wedding invites swooping through the window, he had refused point-blank to attend Harry and Ginny's wedding.

"I think we've had quite to do with your kind" He wrote back. Of course, his reply was never sent, being that they had no address to send it to. Petunia however, had decided to go. There was part of her that still wished she had also got a letter when she reached ten, and this inner voice longed to see just one more time, the type of magic that she could never produce.

So Petunia Dursley arrived at the shabby, patchwork house belonging to the family of her only nephew's fiancé. She had deliberately arrived late; she knew that though an invite had been sent, Harry would never have expected her here.

Reaching the great white marquee, she slipped quietly into the back row next to a slightly absent looking women smelling strongly of cooking sherry. Her eyes were immediately drawn to the front of the tent. Standing there was a dark haired man, wearing round glasses and what she could only assume was a cross between robes and a tuxedo. Next to him was Ginny Weasley, her joy as fierce as the flaming colour of her hair.

A small, grey haired wizard at the alter cleared his throat loudly. As he began to speak of faithful souls, and love eternal, Petunia allowed her eyes to wander over the guests. As she did so, she saw with great shock, the very giant who had first come to send Harry to Hogwarts. He was crying loudly, enormous tears of joy rolling from his twinkling black eyes. She quickly turned her head back to the front. The last thing she needed was for this mountain of a man to see her here.

Suddenly, a hush fell over the room. As Harry looked into Ginny Weasleys eyes, Petunia could see the love and tenderness there. A love that Vernon had never, and could never give her. Of course, she loved Vernon, though why she couldn't quite remember. Their love was a guttering candle compared to the inferno that blazed in front of her.

Petunia Dursley raised a shaking hand to her now tear stained face. This boy in front of her, this man, she had once locked in a cupboard. She had starved him, she had scolded him, and altogether made his life a misery. Yet this young man standing with his bride under a canopy of purest white, had more love, and happiness, and fulfilment than she had ever had in her life. And she envied him.

Harry Potter, the boy who had suddenly appeared on her doorstep, the boy who had constantly been getting in her way, for ever threatening to expose his abnormality. He had everything she could never have. At that moment, as the wizard presiding over the ceremony waved his wand over the beaming newly-weds, Petunia realised something. She had finally realised that the last thing she wanted, was to be perfectly normal.

She carefully replaced the photo on the mantelpiece, her bony hands shaking at the tide of memories which had swept over her. For a minute, she stood still, watching the birds flit about through the window. A sharp creak from the bottom stair made her jump, and she turned to see the large, slightly purple face of her husband.

"Post arrived?" he grunted.

"It's on the table dearest." she replied.

Upstairs, Dudley grunted as he turned over in his sleep. Downstairs in the kitchen, Vernon was complaining loudly about bills. Petunia Dursley returned to her dusting, sweeping away the memories of a boy she had once known.

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><p><strong>So yes, it is a bit over the top, but she's been holding in her emotions for a <em>long<em> time ;)**


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